How To Make Your Fellow Assassin Hate You: AC AU
by Sliferesque
Summary: Never could the Italian have ever imagined seeing THIS happen before him, for no matter what he had intended to occur this night, pole-dancing was just not it. Rated T for mature themes and Drunk/Pole-dancing!Altair. Reviews much appreciated.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Yo._

_So I was on 4chan (for the first time in my life, don't judge) and I found a picture of a pole-dancing Altair._

…_So this happened._

_Yeah, I wanted to explain myself and everything but now I just can't because I don't know how. There are a few things that I do need to justify though, so I'll make it known that this is very much an __**alternate universe**__. As far as we're concerned, they're all still assassins, but are from the same area and differ little in age to each other. Also, instead of having been allocated different duties as a part of whatever war they experienced in their cities at their time, they are instead part of a universal assassin's guild (like in ACI), are about the same rank as each other and are assigned with similar tasks. Meaning no one is a master assassin, but they are still quite skilled. I'm not detailing everything because this is only a short story (expect something around 7 chapters) so as to where this is set, what time is this is at (assume something around Ezio's time period, I guess) and how they came to know each other, I have no relevant answer and so I'll let you make it up for yourselves. That said, such information isn't important to the plot of this fiction anyway. _

_Additionally, I had originally planned to make this a yaoi but later decided to keep it more natural than not. There will be… moments, but nothing hugely blatant/no resulting sexual intimacy. Expect a lot of descriptive fanservice though. I'm gonna leave you guys to read this for yourselves now._

_Enjoy… or at the very least, try to. xx_

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Assassin's Creed franchise (because if I did, Desmond would not have died), and I own none of the relevant ideas nor characters with exception to the articulation and plot of this story. Amen.**

* * *

><p><strong>How To Make Your Fellow Assassin Hate You:<strong>

The warm, yellow glow of the tavern's hanging lantern lights glinted off of sweaty skin. Hips shifted and spun with a fluid grace, gyrating around the wooden pole they teasingly neared but never touched. Toned muscles rippled as they dexterously stretched his gleaming form to and fro. His red sash, knotted loosely at his waist, flounced about his swerving legs, its embroidered end dropping silently to the ground as his slender hips did. His lips were slightly parted, cowl pulled far forward and secreting his arcane upper features from view. Everything else though, at least from his waist up, was revealed about him; well-defined pectorals, a many-sectioned abdomen shifting gracefully in time with every bend and twist he took, solid, sexy biceps flexing sharply beside him, tough, large-looking hands sliding temptingly over his scarred form as he swung about with mindless ease. And every eye…

Every wary eye was on him.

He didn't know it, his face tilted as far back as it would go, eyes skyward and the smooth contours of his neck exposed to all, but he had captured the attention of every person in the room without doubt. They were mesmerized by his attractive figure. They found it captivating how this was the first and only time they'd ever seen this man dance, and yet he moved himself like a professional, as if he made men and women gawk and swoon for him all his life. Even the musicians had stopped playing, their eyes drinking in a performance choreographed to a silent tune. The man moved like a cobra to the resonance of a flute. His chin brushed lightly against the pole, sliding down, down, down against it, and- Was that his tongue? the tip of his creamy tongue hovered, just hovered, above the surface of the pole as he travelled parallel to the wooden shaft. He shifted his body with no sound, leather boots muffling every pivotal movement of his against the polished floorboards. Occasionally he would bring himself closer to the surrounding fascinated individuals; a bold courtesan reached a trembling hand for him as he neared, but he was too quick. Her fingers swiped through his afterglow as the man fluidly drew his sleek form away again. He left her feeling like she had him, sated on the narcotics of his presence, when really no one owned this slivering, snaking body in the least. This was a man, an enthralling dancer who knew exactly what he was doing, and yet… perhaps…

Perhaps he didn't know what he was doing at all.

Ezio sat in his chair nothing but a few meters from this occupied pole, one leg crossed over the other, a full mug of beer clenched tightly in his hand, untouched. The other hand was raised, covering the flaming red of his cheeks and nose as russet eyes followed every tempting move of the striking man before him. The empty chair beside his form had once seated the twirling figure, the goblet beside his own, drained of beer, was now replaced with a wooden post. He felt his gaze skim from side to side, snagged on deliciously-shaped shoulder blades, the flat, bronze plane of a back, a dark navel positioned inches above the 'V' of the lower torso, dipping, slanting until mockingly concealed by a scarlet waistband and off-white breeches. The way the man moved allowed the Italian only glimpses of what he had to offer, before a spin of his hip obscured prying eyes of their focus, right until he smoothly raised his alluring body towards his audience again. It couldn't be denied, how magnificent this man had become, but…

Didn't Ezio just _hate_ what he was seeing too? It ailed him to observe his friend in such a manner, for it was wrong to witness him like this… He wasn't supposed to, he knew the guy would loathe him for it, and yet a lot of him, far too much of him in fact, couldn't help but relish in what he saw either. He was prey to an unbidden licentious nature he'd never thought suited to this particular man, and still he _knew_ it was wrong, but he was just like every other rapt individual within the tavern that night; he was absolutely enthralled by him.

And by _Dio_, he _hated_ it.

'I… I'm sleeping,' the Florentine had hopelessly tried to coax himself after minutes of watching the man perform, his attention lost to bending knees and twirling wrists. 'These dull lights have lulled me into a daydream, and the alcohol… It's causing me to see impossible things…' But every time Ezio solidly kicked the toe of one boot into the ankle of the other, he wouldn't wake despite how much the dull ache grew. He only saw more and more of a lustrous body as it danced itself into oblivion, and really now, this _was_ all because of what _he_ did…

No matter how hard he tried, Ezio couldn't put out of his mind just how it got to this. Just how it ended up so this man, this… fellow friend, acquaintance, assassin, take it how you like it, how he had ended up in this ridiculous and yet overly attractive state at his own expense. Never could the Italian have ever imagined seeing THIS happen before him, for no matter what he had intended to occur this night, pole-dancing was just not it. Sure, he had meant to get the guy drunk and all, but that was because he wanted the man to relax. He didn't mean for him to grab at the nearest post, strip his shirt and start grinding. Ezio didn't even know that the assassin knew how to dance in such a way! But damn him to Hell, he was so bloody good at it and that wasn't something the Florentine man would bother to deny. Those were motions that left him completely stunned, so much so he could barely tear his enraptured gaze away… and…

And now…

Ezio swallowed, dread settling into the pit of his stomach as the blood in his body rushed somewhere else.

Just how in the world was Ezio supposed to face Altair _now_?

Anxious words strained to leave the Italian assassin's throat, but when they managed to, they were an almost inaudible groan under his breath;

"_Ahh, merda_."


	2. It Begins With A Little Convincing

**It Begins With A Little Convincing...**

"No."

The Italian leaned back into a haystack and groaned when Altair brusquely refused his same invitation another time that evening. Clicking his tongue in disappointment, Ezio confirmed the answer with strong reluctance.

"Really…? No?"

"No."

At this point 'no' had become a rather predictable response, but it was a response Ezio did not find worth accepting. Shaking his head in hapless frustration, the man huffed and glared at the stony-faced assassin who didn't even spare a glance at him, the matter brought forth seemingly unimportant on his list of priorities. His tanned skin was shiny with sweat under the blazing sun and his movements were repetitive in how he efficiently stabbed the pitchfork into the hay, flinging what straw he gathered into the cart behind him. Ezio sighed and leant forward with swiftly recovered determination, eyes on that cold, aloof expression at all times. He needed to find a chink in this man's armor to work with, something he could use that would wheedle the Arabian into conformation. Surely he could convince him to accompany him to the tavern, somehow…

"Why do you say no, Altair? It's just one night, and one night of fun won't hurt you. It will be something pleasurable… I promise it. So why don't you come?" He lightly flung a calloused hand into the air, an expression that begged the other man's thoughtfulness, but Altair didn't appear to care for such desperation.

Tossing another pile of straw over his shoulder, the Syrian assassin paused to wipe at his mouth and stared firmly at the man crouched at his feet. "Promised or not, I am not interested in such a trip. This thing of yours is trivial Ezio, and it is not something that requires my attendance. Now _khalas_; leave me alone. I have things to do." Hoisting the equipment firmly in both gloves, he lifted his arms and stabbed into the straw again.

The Italian sighed, batting away lingering flies with an unbothered hand. No matter how hard he tried, even going to such lengths as to sit in the sun and accompany the man whilst he busied himself with such monotonous duties, Altair would never relent. Altair would never give for what Ezio wanted, ever, and the Florentine hated the characteristic lack of compassion he had for others. He didn't know how to appeal to such a difficult individual, and so he intended to constantly annoy him with offerings instead.

Forcing the desperation out of his tone was no easy ordeal._ "Per favore, amico._ Come with me, please. I'll pay for your drink, _si_? I'll… I'll pay for any cost that might burden you. And if you'll have it, I can grab for you some women to choose from as we-"

Ezio winced as the pitchfork was shoved into the golden fodder beside him with an irritated fierceness. The Arabian growled, disallowing the other man from finishing his attempt at whiny persuasion, bending down to glare the assassin in the eye and admonish him instead.

"Did I not already say _no_, Ezio? I am not available, nor do I vie to be. Find someone else to accompany you; Connor, or Edward perhaps. If they should be free, take them. Now _please_, Auditore, _stop bothering me_." Altair stood straight again, shaking his head discouragingly at the other man before his attention was lost to the haystack he was working on, driving the prongs down with more force than necessary as he muttered foreign profanities under his breath.

And Ezio…?

Ezio _still _wouldn't give up.

The Italian grimaced and crossed his legs, clutching at his boots and taking the opportunity to complain despite his companion's blatant annoyance. " But… I can't ask Connor... He'll give me that look! You know, the one where he stares at me as if I'm one of those animals he hunts. His glares alone can kill, I tell you. _Pauroso_,"

Ezio shivered and Altair rolled his eyes, tossing another load carelessly behind him.

" And Edward… Well, he's not the most friendly _bastardo_ I've ever met either. I don't know him well enough that I would want to treat him to a drink anyway. _You_, on the other hand-"

"Why don't you go by yourself, or take a woman with you?" The Syrian was quick to retort, giving the other a warning look before digging into the centre of the haystack again. Ezio huffed at his remark and surveyed the wide xanthous fields surrounding them, drawing his knees up to his chin with a crestfallen shrug.

"I just want to have a bit of fun, and I can't really do that alone. Women… They're fun so long as they're in a bed with me. Otherwise… eh." He shrugged again, and Altair glanced away.

"Hmph."

"Besides, why is it that you don't want to come with me, Altair?" Ezio planted his hands on his lowered knees, glancing up and flinching when he was suddenly met with a death glare. "Hey, don't look at me like that! I'm just curious. Please, _ditemi_. I'm all ears."

Altair remained still and quiet for a while, the high-pitched whinnying of a horse and far-off bark of a dog being of the only few things that disrupted the stillness. Ezio did not speak, and the Arabian assassin doubted he would until he was delivered an explanation that would satisfy him. The question wasn't one Altair would often care to explain, especially considering how his uncaring nature should have justified his actions well enough, but it was still a rather rational inquiry. And well, if it got Ezio off of his back… It might just be a question worth answering then.

Dropping the pitch-fork into the largely-reduced pile of hay, Altair lowered himself into a sitting position beside the other with an exhausted ease. Ezio scooted over a little to make room for him beside the mound of straw, but the Arabian didn't require the space. He closed his eyes and took a brief, relieving breath, then set about mitigating his response in a way that would hopefully shut the Italian up once and for all.

"There are several reasons why I do not wish to go," Altair began strongly, lifting his left hand (the one from which a certain limb had been detached, Ezio noticed) and raised his index finger. "For one, I dislike going to places rich with crowds when there is no particular reason as to why I should be there. In my perception, sitting about a place filled with potential enemies is not amusing. It is unnerving and it is difficult for me to relax in such an environment... You are aware that I'd much rather be alone." Wringing his hands, Altair glowered at Ezio when he looked like he might have wanted to say something. Quickly the Italian assassin caught on, closing his mouth and beckoning for the other to continue.

"Another thing… Alcohol and I do not mix well. From past experience it does no good for me, and I would rather not commit anything I'll later regret. To steer clear of the substance is likely the best course of action, yes?

"And my one last cause; I am busy. I still have to transport this haystack elsewhere, and have at least two assassinations requiring my attention at this moment. By the time I return to the guild, I'm certain there will be another. These are not things I can put off Ezio, and you should know how I feel about leaving things undone. Such is why I won't come with you. Do you finally understand?"

There was a slight, considerate pause.

"…Well, yes… but-"

Here we go, Altair mentally groaned, dragging a hand over his face.

"-the both of us will be there together, so it's not like we're prone to being attacked. In fact, the tavern I have in mind is often visited by allies of ours. It's safe land. Not a bad pick at all. That, and-"

"Ezio."

"-you don't have to consume too much alcohol. I know of a beer they sell that is _very_ finely brewed." The Italian made a minimizing gesture with his fingers to stress his point. "Nothing but a little bit of dizziness will assault your mind, and yet its effects are surprisingly good. No _problema_. Oh, and that isn't all, there is also… um…"

Ezio hesitated then, glancing vacantly over his friend as he stood, dusted himself off and began to brusquely walk away. "Uhh… Altair? Altair! Where are you going, _amico mio_, I haven't finished! Come back!"

The Arabian's response was crisp, a lack of hesitance in its offering as its articulator stormed away. "No."

'But, Altair!" His Florentine companion whined, scrambling to his feet and rushing to halt the man in his stride. Circling Altair with an assassin's quickness and barricading his path by dropping on his knees before him, he raised his palms, clasping them together and made a pitiful face that the other man stopped and looked upon with utmost disdain.

Altair cracked his knuckles with a harsh sigh, at this point irritated beyond belief with the pathetic nature his comrade was displaying. He knew Ezio could be rash at times, immature even, but that did not give reason for a full-grown man to fall to his knees in the face of any kind of despair. Friend or not to him, Altair thought of the action as a disgrace to the Creed; a disagreeable form of submissiveness that no assassin should ever resort to.

"…You are like a child, Ezio. Do you know that?"

From such a low angle, Ezio could observe the brazen glint of the assassin's golden eyes. He had the gaze of a hawk; acuminous, bitter and judging.

"But Altair, I _am_ a child; a child at heart," He lifted a hand and held it over his chest, to which the uttered man scowled at his ridiculousness. "Now, will you be kind to this child and listen to me? Just this once and I shall never bother you again. I swear on it…"

Altair couldn't help the sneer that escaped him as he countered such a sudden promise, thrusting an accusatory finger at the other's chest. "I already have high doubt in _your_ oaths, Ezio. Trust me, I can see in a few days time… You beg me for companionship as you intend to raid the closest palace for money, too lazy to earn it," The Arabian waved a hand in the air, an exasperated expression upon his face. "That, or you want my opinion as to which new robes to buy from the tailor's. You are full of requests that I'd rather not answer to, and _this_ is just another one of them…"

The Italian frowned, a slight show of dejection coming through in his expression. "Oh your allegations are not entirely true, _caro signore_. These particular robes I purchased only last week, I'll have you know. I am not some noble woman who shops for new garbs every two days. Yes, I take pride in my attire, but I do not overdo it. I likely won't buy another set for months, so there is no reason for you to say such things…"

Altair hesitated, considering the counterfeit words he had uttered. "_Tayyib_, I won't... But then again, what of the raiding?"

"An unnecessary action. It's not as if I've been neglecting my duties," Ezio retrieved his leather pouch from around his belt, allowing Altair a good look at its large bulk before he fastened it to his waist again. "They pay us well, and there never seems to be too small a number of pickpocketers or unlawful husbands to beat up. Dealing with the petty things is enough of a job on its own. Besides, if I didn't feel like I had enough money to spare, I wouldn't agree to treating you tonight, would I?"

Quite satisfied with these justifications, the Syrian man glanced away, relaxing his approach a little.

"Hmm. I guess not."

"Then put these things aside, Altair. Will you instead reconsider my request? I know it's something you do not wish to do, and _si_, there are things you must attend to, but at least for my sake, will you _please_-"

"Get off of your knees and I might."

Halting his tongue of its insistence, Ezio instantly obeyed and turned himself onto the soles of his boots, standing straight again so that he were only a centimeter or two taller than Altair. The Italian eagerly motioned for the other man to speak first.

Altair began with a sigh. "…Before I reconsider the matter, there _is_ something I'll address…" He motioned shortly towards the ground, a hand wavering over his companion's dirt-streaked knees. "Do not reduce yourself in the name of such redundant things, Ezio. Friend, foe or citizen, an assassin never stoops to such a height before him. You are more than this, and I like to think so too. Such daftness bothers me, so… I don't hope to see you on your knees again." The Arabian assassin gave the other a stern look, and sheepishly Ezio looked away, but not without returning a nod.

Despite being of the same rank in the Brotherhood, Altair's sense of honor had always been much stronger than his Italian comrade's. As a result, Ezio was often lectured by him, but in all honesty he didn't dislike the reprimanding very much. Ezio believed that this was Altair's unusual display of caring for him… In looking out for the Italian and correcting his flaws, he showed concern for the way the other man carried himself. He may mask it under 'honor' or the laws of the Creed, but the Florentine knew that if it was not _he_ who was making the mistakes, Altair would never even bother to address them. Ezio liked to believe, at the very least, that in earnest warnings and counseling was proof that the Arabian assassin regarded him as a friend.

And well, Ezio admittedly took pride in their friendship… That is, if it _was_ one.

Altair crossed his arms, lifting his chin a little upon noting his message had been heeded. A softer expression now overcoming his angular features, the wiser assassin continued. "I'll admit that your reasoning does seem sincere though… so I'll spare a moment to listen to you. Go ahead; I'll be patient. How else will you convince me of coming to this tavern of yours?"

At this the Italian had perked up. Whoa, _Altair_ was giving _him_ a fair chance? A tangible moment to win over his acceptance…? _Ave Maria_! This unbidden willingness of the stony-faced Assassin was a thing to celebrate indeed! Whatever it was the Arabian wanted him to do- by Heaven, he'd do it!

Ezio beamed, his enthusiasm showing through quite readily. "Ah, is there something you'll have me do to save you time for tonight? Name it and it will be done, I reassure you... What may it be?" Altair received his fervor with a subtle contentment, showing no signs of a smile but sporting a reassuring lack of bitterness.

"There are a few things you could do…" Turning around, Altair hesitated a moment before approaching the haystack he had been working on earlier, his boots scuffing amongst the dried grass and stones. His comrade followed without question, eyes on the broad shoulders of the man in front of him and occasionally wandering to the wide periwinkle skies above. Today was a good day, he believed.

The Arabian stopped at the uneven mound of fodder, swiftly reaching down and snatching up a second pitch-fork to the one he was using before. He glanced at the lengthy tool then up at Ezio, expertly swinging it around in an impressive motion as he spoke. "Help me get the rest of this hay into the wagon, hitch some horses up to it and have it delivered below the steeple of the nearest church. There," Altair pointed into the distance, where they both could make out the outline of the symbolic building through the dusty haze. "I have an assassination to perform there today, regarding a pastor whom is thought to have associated numerous times with the Templars. Something tells me I'll need some cover in order to escape, but the area about it is barren. So what better way is there than to prepare the field myself? Do you understand what I need done?"

Ezio nodded thoughtfully, a serious look about his face. "Yes, it is a clever idea. _Capisco_, I'll help you do it. Perhaps we should team up on this assignment then, to reinforce success."

"Perhaps, but all the financial profit is mine, no exceptions. Do not forget your own reasons behind this…"

The Florentine assassin smiled, lifting his arms in understanding. "I know, I know, your companionship tonight is enough of a reward for me. So… would that complete our deal?"

Altair shook his head, a tapered motion. "No, there are two more conditions yet. Upon dealing with the pastor, I am returning to the Brotherhood to attend to one last mission they've alerted me of this week. However, I have one assassination already outstanding… That is the duty I'll explain and devote to you. If we can carry out both tasks quickly enough, it'll leave me with free time; enough to spend the rest of the evening and early night at the tavern. Alright?"

Ezio quickly deemed the request as doable. "Mm, _bene_… And the last condition?"

"That beer you spoke of… Finely brewed," Altair raised a hand and rubbed his fingers together, mimicking Ezio's action of earlier. This time Ezio surprisingly caught a slight smirk upon the other's face, the white scar marring his lips catching the glint of the afternoon sun. "I'll take some of that, and only that. You better not be lying to me about its lightness, Ezio. I'll make it clear that I _do not_ plan to get drunk."

The Florentine could not help but beam back. "Yes, I hear you. You'll enjoy yourself to no end, I'll ensure it. So that is-"

"That is it. I'll meet you at the tavern at sundown. I want accurate directions, and you must make sure to meet me there on time. Come any later and I'll go home. It wasn't in my best interests to come, but now I see it has worth, so…"

He shared a look with Ezio, his expression satisfied and held even.

"Yes. We do have a deal."

…He said yes.

_Altair actually said_ _yes_.

"A deal! _Mio Dio_! _Ha detto si! Si!"_ The Italian laughed excitedly, hardly believing what he just heard. He never would have imagined it, but tonight Altair was going to join him for a drink! His efforts had come to a satisfying end after all!

Spreading his arms wide in joyous exhilaration, Ezio rushed forward to engulf his _amico_ in an appreciative hug, his happiness overriding him. And well, Altair honestly didn't see it coming until he was consumed by two strong arms, felt the pitchfork he was holding clatter to the ground and found his head resting over the Italian man's shoulder, chest pressed firmly against his. By the time he stiffened in repulsion, Ezio caught on to the impending aura of hostility and had quickly drawn away. And the second their gazes met, quite diverse in emotion…

There was silence; a deadly, calculative silence.

"…Don't you ever do that again," the Arabian assassin breathed, brandishing his hidden blade in lingering shock and jabbing it threateningly towards the other man's chin. A fresh scowl had returned to darken his face, like there would usually be in any other situation, but now only worse. "_Never again_, Ezio, will you take advantage of me in such a vile manner. Do you hear me?"

The amusement and joy had to be suppressed in the Italian's accented voice, although he conformed to the warning without issue. "Aye."

To tell truth, it wasn't like he actually regretted his success in embracing the man… Really, who wouldn't want to cuddle the stony-faced assassin at least once in their life? Besides, he also just discovered that Altair was kind of huggable too, although the Syrian obviously didn't think so…

"Next time you attempt that, I'll drive this blade into your gut, and that is a most sincere warning." Retracting the weapon with a menacing slowness, Altair allowed a poisonous look to linger before bending to lift the farming tool from the ground. He tossed it uncaringly towards the Florentine, turning away with a resultant brashness well-suited to him.

"Now hurry up and get to work, or else I'll change my mind, idiot."

Ezio chuckled, single-handedly catching the heavy pitch-fork and vaulting it around with the lightest grin.

"Do not worry. This idiot will get _all_ of the work done, my friend."


	3. And A Little Bit Of Situating

…**A Little Bit Of Situating…**

"Eh, you could have worn something a little more… fancier."

A swift gesticulation was made with the whirling of fingers.

"Shut up, Ezio."

Two figures were crouched upon a lofty rafter held directly above one of the most opulent taverns in the district. The sun had began to set, tendrils of light and shadow streaking across the cobblestone roads and rooftops, shadowing and highlighting the faces of both men as they peered down into the alleyway before them. The streets hummed with a quiet bustle, a few sharp-eyed individuals noticing the pair of huddled forms above their heads but responding with little more than a few murmurs of incredulity and fear. The eagle-bred assassins paid them no mind; Ezio remaining idle, but not silent, under Altair's call.

"I am serious, Altair. _La vostra moda è spaventosa_… I would have gladly lent something to you, had you just asked me…"

"I could have asked you, but I wouldn't have worn your peacock feathers even if my life had depended on them."

Ezio made a dispirited face that the Arabian largely ignored. "_Ehi_… _Sei molto offensivo_."

"I am aware."

Rather unexpectedly, Altair had donned garbs a fair bit simpler than what he normally wore; a white chemise pulled over tanned breeches, his crimson sash drawn tightly and hanging from his waist, finished with thick, leather boots, fingerless gloves and a separate white beaked cowl drawn over his head. Ezio noticed the sheath of a dagger and several throwing knives protruding from under his sash, seemingly all the ammunition he had on him. The clothing differed from his assassination outfit in that he no longer wore a robe, gauntlets nor a leather girdle, but it still utilized the Arabian's basic style and allowed for him to blend with the crowd.

Ezio, on the other hand, had changed little from his usual attire. A clean set of robes signatory of the Brotherhood had been his choice, the only difference being the defining teal and platinum highlights and light beige base of his leather gear. Lacking all weaponry but his _schiavona_, his hidden blades and a few bullets, the Italian had declared himself prepared and quickly sought his comrade, only to find him dressed in a manner fit for the common civilian.

"It would've been easier to have worn what you usually wear… Why the change?"

Altair silently edged forward along the rafter, his fingers brushing against the narrow piece of wood and his eyes trained below on the citizens that moved to and from the inn. His words were a breath carried on the warm evening air; a verbal offering that complemented the assassin's overall covertness.

"I do not act without reason, Auditore, and I do not find it necessary to cite the reasons to my every action for you."

The man crouched behind him sighed, tossing his hands back in a slight show of resignation. "Still, it would be nice if you'd tell me, no?"

"I don't think so. Anyhow, approaching more important matters… I'll admit you were right," Altair leant back, the swift change in conversation causing the Florentine assassin to grimace. "The most of the tavern's attendants are trusted company, the rest citizens. No one in the district appears suspicious…" The Syrian surveyed the area one last time with his Eagle Vision, then slowly stood and glanced below at a cart filled with leaves. "We'll enter now."

Ezio rocked back on the balls of his feet, using the momentum to bring himself to his full height. "Did you honestly not believe my words of before? Well, now that explains this… _detour_." The Italian motioned around at their shingled environment, but not before Altair dove fluidly from the building, disappearing into the pile of foliage beneath. Muttering a few things about how 'Arabian men just never listen', Ezio stood in place of his companion and looked ruefully below. Altair had already exited the swell of red and yellow and now stood beside the cart, casually brushing himself off. The older assassin barely glimpsed above him, but Ezio knew he was expecting a quick and successive descent.

"M_erda,_my best clothes are going to get ruined… Ugh, screw it." Spreading his arms, he leaned forward and allowed gravity to take a hold of him, embracing the fall, the fluttery sensation, the atavistic screech of a bird, and found himself bedded in a mound of crispy leaves before he could even release his breath. With a muffled groan, he reached for a surrounding wooden panel and hoisted his body out, standing close to his waiting companion and brushing himself off with a baleful gaze.

"Let's go." Altair swept past him, rounding their object of landing and walking curtly through the illuminated entrance. The Florentine lad huffed, put off by his comrade's inconsideration despite how familiar it had become. It wouldn't have hurt to walk in together now, would it? Following the path of the Syrian assassin, Ezio delivered the door recipient a greeting that Altair had chosen to forget and swiftly invaded the warmth of the convivial atmosphere indoors.

Hopefully, it would be a good night…


	4. Requires A Little Patience and Planning

**...Requires A Little Patience And Planning...**

_La Belle Niche_ was a French inn popular with upper-class citizens and individuals harboring prosperous connections. Serving a wide range of exotic beers, wines and spirits, it was renowned for its exquisite interior design, polite customer service and pleasing performances executed by some of the most gorgeous courtesans the town had to offer. So great was its service that it was said to have never left a man unsatisfied. Its ambiance was formed of joyous men and women, all sated and at ease, their every delight accompanied by the elated swing of harps and lutes banded at the tavern's corner. To any drunken man, this was a place that would easily pass as Heaven above.

Ezio smiled around at his surroundings, taking in the mahogany expanse and cheery nature the area exuded. A long, brown bar extended out from the entrance, laden with pitchers and goblets. Nobles drunk and sober leaned over the counter-top to flirt with waitresses that catered to their every need. Circular tables, simple but elegant in design, were distributed evenly about the large rectangular room, the stifled screech of stools and chairs evident amongst the crowd whilst attendants maneuvered themselves about them. It was a busy evening; several groups of courtesans drifted from end to end of the room, the hanging chandeliers shedding a brilliant glow upon their fair skin and glinting against the fans they batted about temptingly. A few slender women of their kind had taken to the wooden beams that supported the rafters in the middle of the room, the cylindrical shafts allowing a slight grip as they swung about them in an alluring manner, capturing the attention of many men present on that golden, balmy night.

Ezio had been to _La Belle Niche_ once before, except it was, at that time, the grounds of an assassination declared essential to the Creed. Whilst perched upon the overhead rafters, the Italian had quietly decided that he would visit this pretty inn sometime soon for a drink. That thought was fast before he leapt and spilt the blood of a treacherous man, horrifying many innocent people before him. Needless to say, the tavern had recovered from whatever shock they had gone through three weeks ago. One could safely presume that they were now oblivious to the assassin's presence, if not entirely welcoming to him.

The Italian hailed a few familiar faces as he strode by, a jolly wave of his hand devoting to them all the attention they required. To count the number of acquaintances he had sighted was near impossible; it seemed as if every second mug thrusted into the air was a toast to his arrival. This was a place where Ezio knew he fitted in, where he was noticed and revered… It was a beautiful place where the Italian _assassino_ was surrounded by his brothers, by civilians sympathetic to their order, by utterly gorgeous women who…

Well…

Lifting his hood from his head, Ezio did not fail at catching the sweet gazes of several young ladies in close proximity. He was used to the attention, posing smug grins and light-hearted caresses as a few daring women brushed purposefully against him. Such was a game the Italian charmer liked to play, and as serious as his duties were, he would never tire of flirting. An attractive waitress had even been so certain of herself to stop and give the man her full attention, bringing a shot of some exotic beverage to his lips and coaxing him to drink. He chuckled and consented, enjoying himself a little _too_ much (somehow the encounter had ascended to Ezio doing the same, assisting the giggling waitress to a drink), before remembering just who else he had brought along. Altair took an unfortunate first preference over these entrancing ladies right now, and he figured he would have to find the shifty Arabian before he disappeared- something the taller assassin would not put past him.

Distracted gaze skimming the mass for said person, Ezio soon excused himself with a polite kiss to the hand. The waitress had pouted in disappointment, rather reluctant to leave such a delightful customer, but she managed a curtsey and disappeared into the colorful crowd to serve others. He began his stride again, albeit a little more carefully now as he strafed between the web of tables to get to the back wall of the tavern. An eyebrow lifting in slight exasperation, the Italian apologized to those groups he had interrupted, releasing his breath when he managed to get to the other side intact.

Looking towards the little shadow the room possessed, Ezio sidled quietly up to Altair, whom stood stationed to the right of a stack of barrels. The Syrian assassin had his eyes hidden, arms folded and back planted against the brick wall, refraining from meeting the other's gaze as he peered darkly around the expansive room. As to why Altair preferred to stick to the shadows so much, the Florentine man did not know. It was a habit he would have to discard though, for the duration of tonight at least.

Huffing lightly, Ezio joined the Arabian at his side, mimicking his posture although he did not intend to stay like this for long. He turned his stare towards the other, the straight-forward question he posed being one of extended patience.

"Is there something troubling you, Altair? Why is it that you have taken to the back of the room so swiftly?"

He watched Altair shift in terse response, a rigid turn of the Arabian's head betraying his wary gaze as it followed a passing group. He didn't seem hesitant to talk, just very agitated in doing so. "…The tavern is too crowded as of now," Altair's answer was of a soft, measured tone, as if he was cautious of people listening in. "And I do not feel comfortable being amidst the crowd. It is much calmer here."

Ezio grimaced, but he felt sympathy for what was a blatant anxiety nonetheless. It was to be expected of Altair, in a way. He could not complain.

"_Si_, but I did not bring you here to loiter in the shadows, _amico mio_. You'll not loosen up this way. The people will not bother you, so do not let them distract you of your comfort. Come, and I'll find us a table." Lifting his head and uncrossing his arms, Ezio scanned the room, succinctly pinpointing a few unoccupied areas. It seemed that all the outlying tables had been claimed though, and it was with a thoughtful and coy tone that he considered this out loud.

"Ah, all the tables at the perimeters have been taken already. Although, I do see a few close to the centre of the room that are quite readily available..."

Altair flashed the Italian an irritated look, sharply rejecting his underlying suggestion. "I refuse to take to the centre, Ezio."

But his refusal was one that Ezio, in turn, refused to take. He sent it right back at the Syrian with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't be so finicky. Being in the midst of it isn't so bad, I'll show you." Before the other man could protest, the Italian grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him away from the cover of shadow, not even releasing him when they made to maneuver about the crowded tables again. Some people stopped drinking or conversing to watch the slight struggle taking place; Altair pulled back and hissed a constant stream of foreign profanities at the other but Ezio took little note of him, his grip firm and pace steady as he slipped in between the tables. The Arabian assassin silenced only when he realized so many were watching, but he was radiating frustration in dangerous waves and Ezio knew he had to be careful now. His arm was dropped when they finally happened upon a table Ezio was satisfied with; it was closest to the middle of the room and posed a nice view of a pole-dancing courtesan whom currently was putting on quite the show. Ezio sat himself gladly, but Altair was heavily reluctant to.

The Arabian scowled, lightly kicking the closest table leg with the toe of his boot. "I dislike being here. This seating arrangement is far too close to the centre of the crowd, and hence far too close to these… people…" He eyed the dancing courtesan with slight distaste.

"Eh, you'll get used to it soon enough. Just sit." The Florentine man raised an arm, bidding the attention of a passing waitress who quickly sidled over.

Altair just stared at his seat, unwilling. He glanced down at Ezio, and eventually Ezio met his gaze with boredom, an eyebrow cocked.

"You can sit in my lap, if you'd so prefer."

His scowl deepened, but Altair finally sat in the chair.

"What can I get for you, good sirs?" The waitress came before their table, flashing a smile at either assassin. Altair did not acknowledge the gesticulation, and Ezio returned it more charmingly than he likely should have. "We have an excellent range available tonight. Have you a preference?"

Ezio's grin widened, a new interest piquing immediately. "_Si_, I do. Brunette, dark-eyed, fair-skinned and with a slightly plump-"

Under the table, Altair effectively kicked Ezio in the shin, interrupting and overruling his shameless flirting.

"Two small beers shall do."

The waitress nodded, a little distracted by Ezio's advances and pained expression, but turned to Altair to consult him on the order. "Just two small beers then? You don't wish for something stronger than that? We'll provide for you a crisp and satisfying beverage regardless, but we've many more delightful infusions to choose from…"

And that was when Ezio had a brilliant idea.

Having recovered, the Italian cut in quickly. "We appreciate your consideration, but my friend does not wish to get drunk tonight. As long as your serving sizes are respectable, they'll do. But, as for payment…?"

"Unless you'd like to put it on a tab, one of the girls will return for the money upon your leave. There's no need for you to worry about that right now."

"Ah, but there is, _bella_. Who said I was talking about money?"

Altair kicked out at him again, but Ezio was expecting it this time, lifting his legs out of the way. The Arabian stubbed himself on the opposite chair, and if it weren't for the waitress standing there, he would've damned Ezio with a life of infertility for his pain.

Although unaware of what was going on under the table, the attendant blushed and cleared her throat, eyeing Ezio carefully as she addressed him. "We… We've many courtesans here today, sir. Why not allow them to devote to you the affection you so crave?"  
>"Mm, I am aware of their presence, but what I'd like to devote to you is a tip for your good work, not a desire in need of satiating. Give me a short moment and come here, <em>tesoro mio<em>." And he held out a hand, a hand he knew was impossibly hard to resist in taking. Altair glared at him, very unwilling to witness whatever 'tip' the Italian so intended to devote, but he received a pleading glance and by that time the waitress seemed to have made up her mind.

She smoothed down her skirt and glanced around nervously before sidling up to Ezio, slender hand silently outstretched. He pushed out from the table, giving her a tender smile as he took it and sat her down on his lap. Her cheeks flared crimson when he lifted her hand and kissed her upon the knuckles, then leaned forward to hold his mouth just below her ear, fast against her neck. He spoke quietly, huskily, and she shuddered.

"I thank you for your excellent service, but is it possible for you to do me one more favour, love?"

Her grip on his shoulder tightened in response to his whispery breath, lost in the cacophony of the surrounding tavern, but the woman managed a decent reply.

"Well… What will it be, sir?"

She felt him smirk against her skin, distracting her with frequent but gentle nips. "If you could do so, I'd like for you to change the order my friend made… Can you have it so that his drink is something a little harder? Make it a large quantity, but… Something not too overly suspicious. I want to get him drunk and swiftly, _capisce_? I'll still have a small beer but make his something hard and fast. Can you do that?"

"I… I might get in trouble if I'm caught swapping drinks, but…" Her lashes fluttered in doubt as his hand moved from hers, only to return in pressing a generous few gold coins into her palm. He kissed her ear, awaiting her judgment, and she replied exactly as he wished. "Yes, I will try."

"Mm, _bene_. Do not let anyone know. This is our little secret, okay? Be confident and you'll do fine," He drew back then and offered her a reassuring smile, and a sweet peck on the mouth. She felt her face burn but was able to remove herself from him, turning around again to face the two with a lump in her throat. He smiled warmly up at her. "Thank you, _amore mio_."

"No," She murmured, remembering to play along even if in a daze. "Thank you." And she left promptly.

Inwardly, Ezio sighed with some relief. He had taken advantage of that situation quite well, gained the affections of a lovely woman and put a spur-of-the-moment plan into action. As to whether it would work or not…

He looked over at Altair, who appeared quite relieved that the waitress was gone. His expression quickly steeled when it met with the other assassin's, and his voice was no less hostile.

"I thought you wished for me to come because you _didn't_ desire the companionship of a woman. You really don't have any self-control, do you, novice?"

Ezio winced at the insult, half-expecting the reprimanding but hasty in defending himself. "There's nothing wrong with a little entertainment… Besides, these hard-working women deserve some sweetening in their lives, no?" His gaze settled on the dancing courtesan, much entertained, although his primal attention remained with Altair.

"Not in the form of your ministrations they don't."

The Florentine assassin snorted, folding his arms as he allowed his gaze to venture over the thighs of the woman strutting before him. "Do you have a better way of showing them your appreciation then?"

"Yes. By letting them do their job, and not interfering in their work for any such purpose as yours. You know better, Ezio. Also, I have half a mind in giving you a good kick up the ass. My foot is considerably sore now…"

"As is my shin."

"You alone deserve that pain. You speak vulgar things sometimes. That said, it repulses me to think of what you would have been whispering into that waitress' ear."

Ezio glanced over at the other in a moment of nervousness, to find Altair entirely composed if not with a hint of antipathy written across his face, then looked towards the bar and its jovial crowd as he muttered his response. "Sweet nothings, is all. No woman I've met doesn't appreciate them. What does it matter anyway? Even if you think my manner of dealing is so wrong, why interfere? Does it bother you?"

"Generally, no. I could not care any less in how you treat your women. But if I was brought here to watch you play around with them, as I have so far seen, then it would irritate me."

"Well… Then it is my deepest regret that I had acted with such misconduct. Had I ruined your evening in doing so?"

Altair chose to ignore the sardonic approach, and answered him for his words' worth. "You have assisted in its ruining, but it's not entirely your workings alone, no."

He cast upon Altair a stare of incredulity, not expecting such a frank response. "You mean to tell me that there are other things you are so far displeased with?"

And he looked upon Ezio with coldness in his stony gaze, golden eyes glittering without feeling. The Italian felt the taste in his throat become sour.

"I would be lying if I was to say that I am having the time of my life."

"Oh, I am sure... Tell me then, whatever else so offends you?"

"The atmosphere of this place, mainly. In an area like this, so open to eyes of others, it is hard to relax," Ezio couldn't help but clench his jaw at this fastidious complaint, for what in Hell did Altair expect from him? A tavern reserved for himself alone? When he didn't respond, quietly seething in anger, the Arabian spoke again. "There is also question as to why I remain here. What purpose does my presence bring you anyhow?"

There was bitterness in Ezio's tone, prominent no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.

"…You are a friend of mine. I wished to share a good experience with you, but by your accord it seems that my good efforts are hardly worth it."

Silence settled between them, breached only by the surrounding chatter and clinking of glasses. With an acrimony brought out in Ezio that rivaled Altair's own, it was clear that things would not be settled with anymore hot-headed banter. When Altair spoke, it was with slight apprehension.

"That… is not true."

A roll of the eyes. "As is nothing else in our creed."

Altair ignored the cynical comment, his reasoning impervious. "Your efforts, Ezio… They are worth the experience. I am here, am I not? I came because you asked, _begged_ it of me. For no other reason would I be sitting in this chair right now except that it would satisfy you, and so I consented, and you worked well to earn it. I could have completed those assassinations without your assistance and gladly gone home, but the agreement we proposed seemed fair at the time. Still I came because you wanted me to, and I might not be enjoying myself, but…"

At that, the other assassin couldn't help but intervene.

"But would it be so _hard_ to enjoy yourself? To find one reason this afternoon that would compel you to sit here, instead of seemingly being forced to? _Mio Dio_, Altair, I am happy you came but it does not please me that you find the tavern I have chosen horrid. I want to enjoy myself, but I also want for _you_ to enjoy yourself too. Is that so much to ask?"

Ezio ended on a desperate note, more pleading than angry or irritated. His companion had fallen quiet under the concerns that he was made subject of, and from the manner he briskly turned his face away, Ezio wondered if his words meant anything to him at all. His ignorance almost hurt and it didn't help that Ezio started to doubt himself on bringing Altair along either… He should have known this would happen but he was far too damned optimistic at the time to see it. If the guy really was so opposed to his being here, then by Hell, he should just let him go already, for this atmosphere was one he could no longer put up with and he really didn't want to have the rest of his night ruined by this gratuitous son of a-

"Although I… well…"

Ezio paused his negative train of thought when Altair began talking, only to trail off. He glanced over at the Arabian, whom uncrossed his arms and began to scratch idly at the wooden table. His eyes were hidden, but his lower features were softer as he spoke. The change in attitude almost puzzled Ezio.

"Never mind that… I meant to say that this tavern is rather… scenic. It has interesting style, and is remarkably clean too, perhaps even a little ahead of its time. I can see reason as to why it is popular amongst our people. You made a good choice."

The other man quieted then and Ezio slowly realized in the waiting silence and with bated breath that he had just been praised by Altair. He had been quite literally offered a compliment, and he was rather confused as to why he would say such a thing now, out of the blue, just as they had an argument about this very tavern until…

Until he noticed how discomfited Altair's posture appeared, how fidgety he was from Ezio's lack of response. That was no mere compliment, but rather, was this his form of an apology? Ezio knew the other assassin was nothing much of a social creature, preferring solitude and being unfamiliar with compassion and the manners of human relationship.

Ezio couldn't help but smile.

"I'm glad you think so."


End file.
